There once was a boy.

A boy with blue eyes that danced with joy.

This boy was happy.

He had friends.

He had fun.

He smiled everyday.

"Good morning!"

It was returned everyday by a girl with bright green eyes.

He was happy.

 

There once was a boy.

He had faded blue eyes.

This boy remembered a girl with bright green eyes.

He remembered her so clearly.

He remembered her smile.

Her laugh.

Her teasing voice.

And then it was all gone.

Gone like a warm breeze on a windy day.

She was gone.

 

There once was a boy.

A boy with sorrowful, dark blue eyes.

He was afraid.

No more.

No more.

He had met someone.

Another boy.

A boy who was like her.

He had a shining smile.

A bright laugh.

Green eyes that glinted with mischief.

He liked that other boy. The boy was kind. He was honest.

He was there.

 

There once was a boy.

His blue eyes no longer saw the world around him.

He knew two pairs of green eyes.

He knew two smiles.

He knew two laughs.

One was gone forever.

The other would respond. The other tried to understand.

The other reminded him of her.

It was too much.

Too much.

 

There once was a boy.

A boy with blue eyes that saw the bottle in front of him.

The glinting in one hand.

The glass in the other.

He put the knife down. Just for a moment.

First, the bottle.

The glass of water.

It was all gone in seconds.

He put the glass down.

Second, the blade.

No more.

Too much.

He saw red.

He felt pain.

 

There once was a boy.

A boy with wide blue eyes.

Wrists dripping with red.

He cried.

He cried salty tears that poured off his face and to the ground.

And he ran.

He ran to the other boy.

The strange boy that looked like the girl.

To the boy with bright green eyes.

 

"What? What happened to you?"

Startled gasps.

"Oh, my gosh, you're bleeding! What the were you thinking?"

"Call 9-1-1! Hurry!"

"Hey! Hang in there! Please, come on!"

Fading...

"I'm so sorry... I didn't know it was this bad."

 

There once was a boy.

A boy with blue eyes that were deep.

Deep with joy.

Deep with sorrow.

He felt things.

He knew things.

He knew he was ruined.

He knew that his hands did not respond to his actions.

He knew that he took too much.

He knew he did too much.

But now, he knew that he was loved.

He knew.